


porcelain →steel (or when Sansa sold her soul to the Wolf)

by sanktaallina



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Drabble, Experimental Style, Mainly focuses on Sansa and her ties to her family, Other, Please be gentle with me, bad grammar, i wrote this last summer, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-05
Updated: 2018-06-05
Packaged: 2019-05-18 10:58:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14851446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sanktaallina/pseuds/sanktaallina
Summary: Sansa Stark has always been a wolf.





	porcelain →steel (or when Sansa sold her soul to the Wolf)

_**from porcelain  
** _

She’s a child with hollow bones and empty eyes. Youth has been kind to Sansa, allowing her to reject the savage beast and remain a girl. Her dreams are of stars, gilded days, and lemon cakes; she is brought to the world she always wanted, full of flowers, knights, and crowns.

Her father’s head hits the ground, blood fills her mouth, and she’s no longer a child.  She is gnashing teeth, sharp claws, and unbridled anger. She has been separated from her sister, her brothers, her mother. A scream tears itself out of her throat. Old gods and new gods be damned, she must — she  **will**  survive. It’s like her father always said:  _The lone wolf dies but the pack survives._

She is a prisoner in the lion’s den, but the Wolf comes to her in her dreams. His lips pull back revealing razor-sharp teeth, but Sansa feels no fear. She instead takes comfort in the brutal truth in his eyes:  _You must survive. No matter the cost._

So she offers herself to the wolf that is buried in her gut and does not scream when it bites. There are no allies for her here so she will forge them out of smoke and shadow. She will befriend dogs, fools, and birds. ( _Her own makeshift pack.)_

She is called little bird; her bones quake and emptiness consumes her. 

_How can they not see how much of a wolf she is?_

But she must survive, and there are no wolves in King’s Landing. She will denounce them and make peace with the monster inside of her at night. 

_t **o ivory**_

Her words become knives; they keep her useful, and in turn, alive. But she must leave this place. There is only so long a wolf can pretend to be a dog. It lives under her skin, in her veins, and creeps into her eyes; she does not know how long she can control it. When they force upon her their family name, she smiles, bearing her fangs.  _(Her dreams are of moonless skies, sharp teeth against the throats of lions, blood streaking her face.)_

Her allies emerge from the fog, and she is whisked away. It is only then that she feels like something that could be a girl. Only she knows the truth: once the wolf has taken her, he will always stay with her. Perhaps this is his revenge. After years of rejection, the wolf is the only thing Sansa has left.

And the wolf keeps her safe, recognizing that her current pack is false. They are deceitful fish and cruel falcons, using her for their own purposes. She raises her hackles and the little mockingbird takes control. He gives her an army. She will take what she can get, but she will not let him forget who she is,  _what_  she is. She could eat him whole, teeth snapping around his neck.

The terrain shifts to something that is familiar, appearing to be home, but in reality, she has been ushered into a world she does not know. Winterfell is the same, but the pack is gone, each battling their own demons. For the first time, she wonders if she is the lone wolf who dies. 

Her insides curdle.  _(If this is the pain a girl must feel, she would rather be a wolf.)_

But she has played dog before; she can do it again. She will persevere, and when the time comes, her jaw will snap into place around the bastard’s neck, and she will be  ~~Queen of the North~~    _Queen of the Wolves_. She will growl and howl, and winter will be her domain. She will wait. She will be patient.

_**to steel** _

He kills her youngest brother.

The wolf breaks free.

She feeds the bastard to his dogs.

A sacrifice to the boy who never grew up. A sacrifice to the girl that once was, the one with flowers in her hair. She likes to imagine that somewhere deep inside her, that girl still exists. But Sansa is in so much pain. There is so much suffering inside of her and an empty chasm in her chest, and no one seems to realize it. Her dreams only bring sadness now. Sorrow flows through her, reminding her of what used to be.

Years spent living in a fire have made her shift into something stronger, but fire leaves scars. Gone are the dreams of stars and gilded days. She no longer hungers for flowers and knights, but for power, strength, safety. She howls in the night, grief and anger lingering in the air. 

_And they hear her._

Jon is the first to return. He is the first other wolf to be seen in years, and she welcomes him eagerly. But the King of The North must battle a different monster all together, and she is the last Stark in Winterfell. ( _The North is hers._ ) 

And slowly, her brothers and sisters come back to her, one by one. The pack has returned to Winterfell, each different and distinctly wolfish. 

So she is now obsidian and ice, cloaked in fur and sharp teeth. 

_The lone wolf dies but the pack survives._


End file.
